


i guess my heart (was green and grey all along)

by angxlsgrxce



Series: but i want love (just a different kind) [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic, Aromantic Peter Parker, Gen, Light Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, author is projecting, i dunno what this is, please read it, y'all it's just me venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 02:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20036056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angxlsgrxce/pseuds/angxlsgrxce
Summary: “Kid, it’s okay. I’ve got you, you’re okay-”“But what if I’mnot?”or, peter discovers something about his identity with tony's help.





	i guess my heart (was green and grey all along)

**Author's Note:**

> i. i dunno. i had emotions. this came from them.
> 
> [title inspired by a poem by on hellopoetry.com]

“Hey, Tony?” Peter says quietly. “Can I ask you something?” His words, albeit few, are slow and deliberate, and it’s a way Tony’s never heard the kid talk before. Somewhere in the back of his mind, an alarm bell goes off. 

He swipes away the holographic projection of Mark 13 of Rhodey’s braces, giving his full attention to Peter, who’s on the other side of the workbench. At the way Peter goes pale upon seeing his face, it might not have been the best thing to do. 

“What’s up, kiddo?” he asks, trying to soothe the already anxious spider-boy in front of him. Peter stares at an invisible spot on the bench, his eyes slightly out of it, and it’s then that Tony notices that the kid isn’t moving. Peter’s never still. Something’s _ wrong. _ “C’mon Pete, talk to me.”

“No, never mind, it’s-it doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out,” Peter says, and it’s too quick. A reflex. 

“If it’s messing with your head this much, it matters, kiddo.” Tony moves around to Peter’s side of the bench, and taps Peter’s leg lightly. _ Once, twice. _ He doesn’t lift his hand off of the kid, letting it rest on Peter’s shin, and he can visibly see as Peter gets a little more grounded. Good. That’s progress. “I’m gonna sit now, is that good?”

Peter shrugs a shoulder, and it’s enough for Tony. He lifts Peter’s legs, and sits down, letting go and allowing Peter’s feet to fall in his lap. He circles a hand around Peter’s ankle and squeezes. “Breathe, underoos.”

Peter lets out a gasp, and suddenly Tony finds himself with an armful of sobbing teenager. Shit. 

He immediately wraps his arms tightly around Peter, cradling his head and carding calloused fingers through soft hair. “Hey, woah, kiddo, it’s okay, it’s alright, I’ve got you, you’re okay,” he murmurs, searching desperately for words that will help, and circling back to the meaningless platitudes that never do. “I’m here, I’ve got you, it’s gonna be okay.”

He continues to whisper into Peter’s hair, rubbing Peter’s shaking back and petting his hair in attempts at comfort. _ I’m here, you’re safe, it’s okay. You’re okay. _He doesn’t know what’s got Peter so upset, and it scares the shit out of him. This isn’t a panic attack, this isn’t PTSD, this is just an upset teenager, and Tony isn’t a father, despite what the rest of the Avengers would like to insinuate. 

“Kid, it’s okay. I’ve got you, you’re okay-”

“But what if I’m _ not_?” Peter bursts out suddenly, and a fresh round of sobs catches in his throat. Tony flinches, pulling back from Peter slightly, just in time to watch as he squeezes his eyes shut and repeats, voice raw, “What if I’m _ not_?”

Tony doesn’t know how to answer, because he doesn’t understand what’s happening. He opens his mouth to try and say something, _ anything_, but Peter beats him to it, eyes flying open and words spilling out of him for the first time all day.

“What if I’m not okay? What does ‘okay’ even fucking mean? What is ‘normal?’ Why do we have to have a normal? Why can’t people be different? Oh right, because that’s not what society says is okay. And now we’re back to fucking ‘okay.’” Peter laughs, and it’s terrifyingly empty. And Tony doesn’t know what to do. “And I’m probably not. Okay, that is. Because I’m _ broken_, and I can’t fix me, and I don’t even know if I can be fixed, because I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I fucking hate it, I want to be able to know, I should know fucking basic things about myself, and I _ hate _ this, and I don’t _ want _ it, and someone should just throw me away, you know?” Peter’s crying again, and Tony hates it. He doesn’t know what to do, how to help, so he settles for rubbing a hand on Peter’s back again, pressing his thumb in between Peter’s shoulder blades. “Because I’m broken and that’s what you do to broken things. You throw them out. People just. Throw them out. You really should throw me out. I’m not someone people should keep around, just _ throw me away-_”

And it’s there that Tony can’t stand to hear it anymore. 

“Stop it,” he snaps. “Just _stop it_. I will never, ever throw you away. Even if you are broken. I don’t throw broken things away. I fix them. I give them a home. I’m a _ mechanic_, not a trash man. But that doesn’t matter, because you’re not broken, kid. I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know what’s freaking you out, but I do know that I know almost everything, and the things I don’t know, I can learn. So we’ll figure this out together, kiddo.”

Peter stares at him, eyes filled with tears. “Why?” he says hollowly, and Tony’s heart fucking breaks. 

“Because I love you. Because you’re my _ kid_, and I’m gonna help you, no matter what.” 

Peter blinks, and the tears spill over. He whispers, “Oh.” Tony brings a hand up to wipe the tears away, and catches Peter’s chin, forcing Peter’s eyes to meet his. 

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Uh. Not really.” 

Tony rolls his eyes, and pinches Peter’s arm. “Kiddo. Want me to help?”

“Yes.”

“Then I gotta know what’s going on. Or at least some of it,” he amends. 

“What does love feel like?” Peter asks, and it’s such a non-sequitur that Tony almost lets Peter fall from where the kid has basically nested in his lap. But he wraps his arms more tightly around him, and thinks of Pepper.

“It feels like…wanting to protect them more than anything else in the world, and feeling so desperately secure when you know they’re safe. It’s thinking of them and smiling, and knowing that they do the same. It’s knowing that you would do anything for them, no matter the cost. It’s being so, so amazed by whatever they do, because they’re a badass and it’s perfect. It’s seeing them smile and feeling so much better inside, and hearing them laugh and wanting to laugh too. It’s hugs and kisses and warmth and light.” Peter’s breath hitches, and Tony preemptively starts petting his hair in case of tears. "God, kid, you've got me sounding like I'm in a sappy rom-com."

"You've always been in a sappy rom-com," Peter says simply, and Tony blinks. _At least he isn't crying_, some part of his mind comments. 

"Okay?"

"I mean, sure, it's a sappy rom-com plus aliens and superheroing and all the other weird shit, but ever since you met Pepper, your life has always been a sappy rom-com. That's your story."

Tony blinks again. Then he looks at Peter, whose eyes are wet with tears, and says, "And what, you don't think it's yours?"

“What you said. About love. I-I don’t think I can feel that,” Peter whispers, voice cracking, and Tony frowns. “I mean-I understand it in theory, and I feel love for May and Ned and _ you _ and MJ, but not. Not the way you just described it.” 

“Are you sure you just haven’t met the right person for your story yet?” Tony offers, and it was the _ absolute wrong thing to say. _

Peter tenses immediately, and then before Tony can process anything, his lap is decidedly absent of a teenager and Peter’s on the other side of the lab, almost to the doors. “Bye, Mr. Stark, I have to go, sorry! Thanks for the help!” Peter calls, waving a hand over his shoulder and not looking back. If Tony hadn’t known him as well as he does, he wouldn’t have noticed the crack in Peter’s voice or the shaking in his hand. But he does know him. And he does notice. 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _ fuck!_” He slams his hand down on the workbench, and then inhales sharply in pain and anger and _ guilt. _He has to fix this, he can’t lose Peter because of his own stupidity. “FRI, pull up everything that could apply to what the kid just told me.” 

“Searching now, Boss.” 

**\---**

_ “Tony? What do you need?” _May’s voice isn’t necessarily unfriendly (it’s not friendly, either), which means Peter didn’t tell her he was upset. 

“Hey, May, can I talk to Peter?” he asks casually, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together. 

_ “Why’d you call me?” _He hears movement in the background, which means she’s either moving to give the phone to Peter or moving it far, far away from Peter. 50/50. 

“Kid’s not answering my calls, but I know he’s with you, he’s not in his room here and the suit isn’t active.” He winces, preparing for May’s response.

_ “The hell did you do, Stark?” _

“I didn’t do anything!” Tony starts defensively, then lets out a breath. “No, I-I said something I shouldn’t have, and I didn’t realize it was the wrong thing until after, and-”

May cuts him off. Her tone is scathing. _ “What did we say about thinking before we react? The answer is something we learned in elementary school, kids!” _

“Hey. I didn’t-I was trying to help him. I didn’t know and-it doesn’t matter. Can I please talk to the kid?” He’s almost begging, as close to begging as Tony Stark can get, and that’s probably what makes May give in. 

_ “Fine, I’ll send him outside.” _

“You’ll-what?” Tony splutters, and May laughs.

_ “Tony, I can see your car. I know you’re outside my apartment.” _ He hears the muffled scrape of a hand against the receiver, and knows that she’s talking to Peter. _ “He’s heading down. I don’t know what you did, Stark, but you better fix it.” _

“I kno-” The line goes dead, and Tony rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, May, hang up on me, real classy,” he mutters. Seconds later, there’s a knock on the passenger-side window, and Tony immediately unlocks the car. The door opens, and Peter slides into the seat, steadfastly refusing eye-contact with Tony. 

“May says you have two minutes,” he mutters. Tony nods, because of course she did. Then he pushes all of it away, because _ Peter. _

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, kiddo,” he says, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “I didn’t realize that I said the thing you didn’t want to hear at all, and that I didn’t think about how it might impact you. I should’ve been more considerate, and I should’ve _ listened. _ I’m sorry. And I-I think I understand now.” Without any more words, he shoves the pamphlets and informative papers and tumblr posts and webpages that he’d printed off in the last 8 hours into Peter’s hands. 

Peter looks at him, then down at the papers, and then back up at him. “Tony, what-”

“Just look at them, kid.”

Peter blinks and Tony looks pointedly at the papers. Peter rolls his eyes, but does so, and the only sound in the car for the next thirty seconds is the shuffle of papers. Then Tony hears a muffled sob, and his gaze shoots up to Peter. Peter, whose hand is pressed tightly over his mouth to prevent more sobs from getting out. 

“Shit, kiddo, I’m sorry,” Tony says quickly, already moving a hand to comfort him, but Peter looks up at him, eyes shining. 

“I’m aromantic,” Peter breathes. “That’s-that’s _ me_.”

Tony smiles softly. “Yeah, Pete.” 

“Holy _ fuck._” And Peter’s rifling through the papers, eyes getting brighter. “All of this, it makes sense, it’s what I’ve always thought about dating and I didn’t get it until now but holy fuck, Tony.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to figure it out on your own,” Tony says, because he knows Peter.

“It’s-well, it’s not _ fine_, because I hate not knowing shit about myself-but Tony, you-I don’t even-I-_thank you._” Peter’s clutching the papers to his chest, tears falling from his eyes, but he’s _ happy _ and Tony wants to hug him so badly. 

“Kid, I told you. I’ll help you no matter what.”

And then Peter’s hugging him, and it’s awkward because they’re crammed in the car, but they make it work, and then Tony says through tears, “I thought we weren’t there yet,” and Peter bites back, “Not a hug, I’m just grabbing the door,” and they’re good. They’re great. _ Peter’s _good. Because he knows who he is now. He has his story.

Peter pulls away, papers crinkling, and says, “Shit, May’s gonna kill me.” 

Tony laughs, and pushes Peter towards the door. “No, May’s gonna kill me. Now get out, I’ll see you next Wednesday.” 

“Bye, old man.”

“Bye, kiddo.”

**\---**

Later, Peter updates his Twitter bio from_ “he/him, photographer and nerd extraordinaire, would probably apologize to you if you poured soup in my lap” _ to _ “he/him, aro, photographer and nerd extraordinaire, would probably apologize to you if you poured soup in my lap.” _

**Author's Note:**

> so. lemme know what y'all thought. i still dunno. thanks for reading, and kudos and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> come yell at me on [tumblr](https://charliebradburyismyspirit-animal.tumblr.com) if you want, i'm lOneLy
> 
> love y'all, be safe as always


End file.
